Sweet and feverish
by epizit
Summary: So many questions and so little answers, this is what Will Graham was.


**Hello again! Here's another fanfic, this time from Hannibal's point of view. Hope you like it :)  
****After 1x11 Roti (make sure to be up-to-date with the tv serie, don't wanna spoiler anything!)  
****As always, reviews and critics are more than welcome :)****  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla.**

**Enjoy :D**

_Sweet and feverish._

A subtle smell, so full and rich he couldn't have enough. What was it that made him so appealing to him, he had no idea. There was something about that man that made him tingle inside, but he couldn't really get it. At first he was just curious, how couldn't he be? A man like no one, so empathic he could actually put himself in their shoes. In _his_ shoes too. Was he born this way? Has there been something in his past that made him like this? Just…how?

So many questions and so little answers, this is what Will Graham was. There were some reasonable explanations for his latest episodes, concerning vivid hallucinations and loss of time and memory: encephalitis. But this simple medical diagnosis couldn't quite fully explain all he was.

Plain curiosity, nothing more nothing less: that's how he labeled his interest towards Will. He just wanted to understand a little more this strange, strange man, that's all. At first this was the case, true, but as time passed, he found himself getting more and more interested, more fascinated, more seduced. That mind of his, so scarred by all the things he had seen and gone through, was so appealing that it almost chanted to him. A sweet and slow melody, so addictive and toxic, it got him captivated in its notes.

In the end, he had to admit it wasn't just his mind that appealed him. It was Will. All of him. The way he spoke, his tone insecure and strong at the same time. The way he avoided everyone's eyes but his. The way he kept his head slightly tilted forward, his shoulders stiff, his eyebrows constantly frowned. The way he smiled at him, in the rare moments he did. The sound of his laugh, this low chuckle, almost a growl, coming deep from his throat. The way he looked at nothing but saw everything. The way his eyes unintentionally replied when he looked into them, like open windows on his very soul. In their last sessions, he found himself getting lost in his thoughts whilst watching his every move, or the lack of them, when he stood focused on something. This was strange for him, for he always had utter control of everything around him. Even so, he couldn't, and wouldn't, do anything about it. So much time has passed, since the last time he felt so close to someone. So enchanted, so…protective. Because, yes, he felt very protective over Will. And possessive. He was _his_, and his alone. How had things gotten like this? He couldn't quite understand it, but he had grown almost fond of him. He dared not say it out loud, for he was scared to admit it. To himself in the first place, let alone anyone else.

_Now stop it_. He was the manipulative one, and yet it was him the one who couldn't stand not being around Will. Little, scared and scarred Will. So defenseless when he was around him, so fragile, so trusting. When he felt the ground under his feet crumble, who was the one whose door he knocked? His paddle's. _His_. He found himself pleased beyond imagination at the scene he was presented to when he opened that door. Out of everyone, Will came to him. Begging and pleading for the truth, his whole body was screaming _help me_ that night. And help he had found in him. Maybe not the kind he was asking for, but the one he was sure Will needed: a slight push in the right direction. As long as he'll keep following his lead, he will be safe. That was his plan, or, to use Will's words, _his design_.

It was still a work in progress now though, he mustn't rush things, his dear mongoose needed to be unaware of the subtle work he was doing. It was too important to screw up, especially now that he was so close to the edge of his sanity. Precious little Will. Not even Alana, the one woman he actually respected for her intellect, the one who claimed to be attached to Will, to have feelings for him, not even she, who had been watching Will so closely, realized. This web he had weaved, made of partial truths and manipulation, was not to be discovered if he played his cards well. Thing is, with his growing attachment, it has become more and more hard to stay focused. Will was constantly on his mind, blurring every other thought, washing it all away. He wasn't aware of the chaos his rare smiles had caused inside him. He was actually angry at his own mind, for not being able to get him without having Will getting to him. It was a double edged weapon, sharper than he could ever imagine. He was sure it was worth the risk, but at the same time he had to be prepared for any case, even the worst possible. Eat or be eaten. And with him being a cannibal, there was no doubt what he'd choose.

_Knock knock._

The sudden noise snapped Hannibal out of his train of thoughts, startling him for a second before regaining his usual composure. His last patient had long been gone, so the studio was quiet, except for the slight panting coming the other side of the door. Hannibal stood, his body a bit stiff having been in the same position for - he glanced at the watch - almost an hour. He made his way to the door, his footsteps barely audible, and opened it. There he was, the reason his control ultimately slipped, the thought that kept his mind wandering, there he was.

"I wasn't aware we had an appointment"

"I, I tried calling your house but since you wouldn't answer I thought you might be still here" said Will, so nervous his hands couldn't keep still as he spoke, his eyes restless, his frown constantly there, the shadow of an apologetic smile on his lips.

"That's not a problem, you know my door for you is always open" he said with a smile, as he made way for him to enter the studio.

Will replied with a light nod, before moving. As he walked past him, their hands slightly brushed, sending a chill down to Hannibal's spine. A warmth that had nothing to do with the heating spread from his inside, a fire burning. His eyes became the ones of an hunter, focused on the fidgeting man who was now giving his back to him, as he was removing his coat. It was a hunger he didn't know he possessed.

As he placed his coat on the sofa, Will turned to look at Hannibal, and their eyes met. In that second, he felt his mask starting to slip. So appealing, so tempting, so trusting… and he was _so hungry_. For a moment, Hannibal felt his control slip from his tight grip. For a moment, his only thought was "_mine_".

Will's startled expression made him snap out of the spell he was unwittingly casting on Hannibal, who regained his control and composure in the blink of an eye, and gave Will a curious look.

"Is something the matter, Will?"

He stood there blinking, still awed from the glimpse of Hannibal he caught, the feeling of sudden danger still making the adrenaline rush and his heart bumping fast. He shook his head, unsure of what he had just seen, and glanced at him, seeing nothing more than his gentle psychiatrist and friend.

"No, nothing… I guess I'm just imagining things, it wouldn't be the first time" Will said.

He returned the look and motioned for him to seat. As Will moved to the usual armchair, Hannibal gave him the back whilst closing the door, the smile of a predator on his face.

**Edit: Where this fanfic left off, another one starts. "Fight me", be sure to check it out ;)**


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